


The Place We Made For Us

by julietburked



Category: Lost
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort/Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 00:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julietburked/pseuds/julietburked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of young Jack and Juliet in sideways. "It isn't the first time she asks herself why she's out here. What's the point? She doesn't know why she still waits for the sound of a car approaching from the distance pulling up their driveway."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Place We Made For Us

**LOS ANGELES '94**  

 

**_S_** he sits by herself on the lounger out back. 

 

She hadn't bothered to turn the garden nor pool lights on, so there she was on the patio in the darkness of the night. She watches the pool water slightly move with the breeze, listens to the tree leaves rustle with the wind, and the muffled howling in the air serves as a reminder of how hollow she feels.

 

It isn't the first time she asks herself why she's out here. What's the point? She doesn't know why she still waits for the sound of a car approaching from the distance pulling up their driveway. Most nights when he comes back she's already asleep, anyway. It didn't use to be like this. Sometimes she wants to call him and say _Hey, do you remember when we used to_ _like_ _each other?_

 

He'd called from the hospital earlier, sometime after nine. She figured he must have just gotten out of a surgery (she didn't bother to check his schedule today; already guessed he wouldn't be coming home until it was too late). He started out by apologizing for not making it in time for dinner which she waved away easily enough, then he made small talk, asked her what time she finished and what she was doing, bla bla bla, before finally getting to the point.

 

She's come to know by now that Jack was most aggravating when he knows he did something wrong or when he feels guilty or when he thinks he can fix something. His stubbornness would envelop and possess him, sending him charging like a horse with blinders. Also not fun: he's so irritable during these times. She's learned to stay away from him whenever he lapses into one of his episodes. Today was an iteration of the second one, she'd guessed.

 

As she heard him go on, she saw his face manifest in her mind, an exasperated expression on his face. There was his dark hair that needs trimming, his fangs that showed as he continued talking on and on. Somehow though, she stopped because she couldn't remember the colour of his eyes. She's looked at them everyday for how many years now until they became banal somewhere along the way. She notices when his pupils dilate, considers that a cue as to how anxious he was, but the color of his iris? No clue. Brown? Or was it green? It's not blue, that's for sure. Funny, she remembers it was one of the first things she noticed about him, once upon a time. 

 

Well, they were happy too, once upon a time.

 

"Juliet, say something." He'd huffed into the phone. "We need to talk about this."

 

Jack also really doesn't know when to give up _._ She really didn't need nor want to talk. Talking with him nowadays only lead to arguing anyway. It's exhausting and they argue in circles.

 

"No, Jack, we don't. I can't do this now, alright? I have to go," she'd said, and she hung up before she heard Jack call out to her again.

 

She closes her eyes, now lying on her back on the lounger, the cool wind threatening to send a shiver down her spine, trying to enjoy the silence. His voice in her head is so loud though and it never stops talking, never ceases calling after her. _Juliet, Juliet._ She's almost started hating the sound of her name in his voice. A sick, spiteful part of her wants to laugh because she imagines this is what it must be like in Jack's head sometimes, only he hears his father's voice instead.

 

_Goddamnit_. They used to have it so easy.

 

 

**[FLASHBACK] MIAMI '89**

 

The ringing of the alarm clock is far too piercing in the morning. The sun is already climbing up, its rays streaking in through the thinness of her drapes, barely touching the tips of her fingers resting on the bed, as though last night’s midnight rain never happened. Maybe if she hadn’t woken in the middle of the dark at 2 AM she wouldn’t be so drowsy. She hopes she’ll get more sleep tonight, if everything serves her well.

 

After a quick stop at the bathroom to brush her teeth and rinse her face in a lame attempt to wake herself up, she makes breakfast, pours herself apple juice, and sits down by what often doubles or triples as a dining/work/whatever table. Her apartment was small; it was all she could afford, which was nothing much, really. She was lucky to find this unit too, considering she was ready to settle into a smaller studio apartment. At least she has her own room here even though the only thing that fits inside is her bed and her dresses.

 

Breakfast eaten, she does the dishes silently (everything she does is silent really and it's grown on her. Singing to herself only reminded her of the fact that she was very much alone). She showers, she dresses, she stuffs her backpack with too many things, she ties her shoelace the same way she does every other day, she locks the door behind her, she heads out, walks, stops, and waits for the bus to come. She gets off the bus, she sits at the edge of the second row in class, she listens and listens as the teacher drones on about soil fecundity. In between classes, she heads towards the library, finds a quiet corner and she reads and reads, studies and studies, memorizes and memorizes, because what else would she do?

 

—

 

She sits by the window on the bus, watches the red-orange sky stretch above as its colors slowly grow dark into a blue that looks like black along the course of her bus ride as it takes her home (or at least to the bus stop near the apartment). People pass by and buildings too, abstract colors beyond the glass windows. She closes her eyes, feels the slight breeze against her face, dancing lightly with her hair. The headlights of cars that drive past are like lights flashing behind her eyelids, and she thinks she might have dreamt of similar flashing white lights last night. Her dream had scared her, the shock of it waking her up, or maybe because she'd willed herself to open her eyes from inside the scary confines of her subconscious. Whatever it was, she hopes it won't happen again tonight.

 

She gets off, walks the distance towards her building on the crumbling sidewalk. It’s rather quiet here with only the resonating sound of cars in the distance. She stops and looks for her keys, digging through the bottomless pit that is her bag with the help of the bright white streetlamp overhead. There's really too many things inside, she makes a mental note to empty it out as soon as she can find the darned keys. She groans to herself, reaches further in until she feels the bottom of her bag, and her breath catches. There’s a hole on the side. She hurriedly sets the backpack on the ground and examines the hole. It’s big enough for her keys to have fallen out. She puts every curse she can manage into her eyes as she looks to the night sky in resignation.

 

Sighing, she starts placing the contents of her bag on the sidewalk, calmly setting it in a neat row. _Why_. She straightens and puts today’s lecture notes next to the empty container that had oranges in it earlier. She takes out her schedule book, stacks it above the notes, and her pencil case above it. _Why is this happening._ Her empty water bottle stands by the container and a loose pencil goes into the pencil case but still no keys to be seen. _Why, why, why._

 

“Are you looking for something?” She hears a voice say from behind.

 

“Um, yeah.” She unzips the inner pocket, takes out a lip balm she’d completely forgotten about and pockets it in her jeans.

 

“Mind if I ask what you’re looking for?”

 

“No, it’s fine, please don’t mind me.”

 

“Did you lose your keys?” She stops, turns around to finally face the person standing behind her who’s slightly bent over to meet her halfway. The streetlamp above flickers as he holds up her set of keys and she closes her eyes, sagging with relief. “Found it over there.” He says, pointing towards a bush about ten feet away.

 

“Thank you.” She takes her keys from him and palms it as she starts stuffing the things back in her bag haphazardly.

 

“No problem. Do you live here?”

 

“Yeah. Do you?”

 

The keyring dangling from his index finger jingles. “Room 23.”

 

The white light overhead flickers as she stands and once she’s upright she notices two things: he’s a bit taller than her and his eyes are brown and dark in the silhouette of the light. “You know, I heard that room was haunted,” she jests.

 

“Really? You should’ve told me sooner, I could’ve bargained a lower price.” 

 

They walk together into the building, making slightly awkward small talk until they stop by the first floor staircase. Her apartment, number fifteen, is on this floor so she has to head further in while he has to go up another flight of stairs.

 

“Thank you again,” she says.

 

He shakes his head. “Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

 

“Well, have a good night.” 

 

She starts to turn away when he says, “I’m Jack, by the way.”

 

She smiles, partly because he helped, partly because he’s nice, and partly for some other reason she can’t quite place, as she slightly nods. “Hi, Jack. I’m Juliet.”

 

 


End file.
